Twisted Slavery
by The Sky Sage
Summary: Slavery, a state where you belong to another. You have no right to freedom. He got caught in the most horrible way. He, the epitome of freedom, became a slave.


**THe Dmgirl:** And another oneshot so you guys don't kill me in my sleep while I try finishing "Dim Lights". Took me a total of three days to come up with this one. I have a lot going on on my plate so far, and I'm trying to solve a few issues in my life. I know I'm gonna make it, but let's say it's not all that easy. So, sorry for the delay in "Dim Lights" and I hope you guys can forgive me with...

**Twisted Slavery**

_Disclaimer: _I don't own Sonic and company. Sega does and I can live with it.

Slavery, a state where you didn't belong to yourself anymore. You became the property of another, couldn't do anything without having the agreement of your owner. And if you were asked to do something, you had to do it. No choice, you were obliged by the powers of ownership, bound to your proprietor by more than a single contract.

He knew that he had, so far, avoided situations close to it. He had flirted with death and capture, only unable to avoid it when the army had managed to take him by surprise. But, even then, while imprisoned, he had never been declared as property, and had always found his way out before anything happened. His stubborn attitude had helped him out of tougher situations while keeping his will completely intact. He was a die-hard.

Not this time. He had become a part of it by simply entering a house that wasn't his. He had become a slave, property to the most cunning person he knew thanks to pure trickery.

The invitation had seemed harmless, a simple extent of hospitability as he wondered if he would find a place to stay the night. The door had been closed softly as he had visited the vast living room and kitchen, only taking a peek at the corridor where the rooms were. The hearty meal had taken minutes to prepare, surprising him greatly. He hadn't expected such service, certainly from the ever stoic owner.

It was only when his host showed him to the guest room that he had frozen. It hadn't been bland, with simple white or cream walls and a dresser. The walls were light blue, complementing the navy carpet and white ceiling. The wooden furniture had been spaced enough to for him to stretch in the morning, and was filled with everyday necessities. Compact disks were nearly toppling over themselves on the green shelves. A small laptop, along with a stereo had even been put on the glass corner desk, ready to be used. This wasn't a guest room. This was exactly what he had described as his ideal room.

He had spun around at the closing door, eyes wide at the soft farewell. He would have expected the other to gloat, or even smirk in triumph. Nothing. He was left to himself in a room which felt as if he had always belonged there. Even the bedding and mattress were perfectly up to par, giving him the most peaceful sleep he had had in years.

He had woken up completely rested, ready to face the new day with a smile once he had stretched and opened the curtains, only to freeze upon leaving the room. It hadn't been the fact that the door in front of him had been opened, revealing a pristine white bathroom, but the neatly folded towel in front it, along with a new bottle of his favorite shampoo.

He had almost rushed to see the other, to ask what was with all this, but the faint sounds of pans being moved around made it clear that his host was currently cooking. And if he knew something about cooking was that the slightest disturbance could mean something got burnt. His best friend had chastised him enough to remember that lesson.

The moment he had washed and breakfast had been served, though, his hesitance had all but faded. He had to keep himself from drooling over as he wolfed down his plate, smiling all the while. Maybe the other was just trying to be a perfect host. He wouldn't have put it past him, actually.

The thought fled the moment his hand was caught by black ones, crimson eyes scrutinizing the glove he was wearing. The last of his food was gulped down as the forming glare leveled to him. He wasn't able to speak as his host let his hand go silently, blue ears twitching at the sound of a drawer being forcefully opened. And, when the black one returned, he had been holding a new pair of gloves and socks, growling for the ones he was wearing to come off.

In a flurry of movements, peach hands caught the ones currently taking care of what the other had demanded, and blood red had met his gaze. With a shout, He asked what their owner was up to. First the room, then the shampoo, now the new set of gloves and socks? What the heck was going on?

A snarl, and the two trapped hands found themselves around his wrists as those eyes glared at him. Tan lips parted, and the bark etched himself in his mind like burning steel against skin.

"_You're mine._"

They had fought the entire day, making a mess of the house and the outside. Both were wounded beyond reason, with deep gashes along both their chest, and his ankle twisted. But he didn't care. He wanted out. Out of the house, the grounds, the other's life. There was no way he was becoming someone's property. Not now, not ever. He liked his freedom too much to give it up to anyone, for anyone.

All thoughts blanked when a punch hit him square in the nose, knocking him unconscious. And he had growled when he had awoken in the very same room the next morning. Yes, his wounds be bandaged, all of them taken care of with the perfection he knew the other capable of. Yet, he was back to square one, and, even better, because of his twisted ankle, he wouldn't be able to go anywhere for days, giving the other time to make a claim on him.

It had taken all his strength not to shout of rage. It would have been pointless, anyway. The house was built in the country, where neighbors were far and didn't truly care for what happened around them. Hadn't the other chosen the exact prefect location to set such a plan in motion? Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. No wonder the black one was a strategist, often making plans with his best friend to take down the megalomaniac that was his archenemy. And if he could catch a scientist with three hundred IQ points, how hard could it be to capture him?

With gritted teeth, he had refused every meal, every little "treat" that his "host" came to give him. He had barked his rebuttal, taken glasses to throw them against the nearest wall. Every time, the other left with his head held high, came back to clean up the mess before leaving without a word as he shouted profanities, his language level degrading as the days passed. If he could get him to react, to return his insults by one of his own. Just a glare would have been enough to tell himself that he was right, that the other was really just out to prove that he was stronger, that he had won over the one that he called a fake.

However, the only time the black one had spoken was to say that he would be able to walk the next day before silently closing the door behind him. He had only been able to blink at the lack of emotion in the smooth voice, even missing the sharp edge it usually had. It had even sounded sad. He shook his head. The black one, sad. Yeah, right. As if that was even possible. The last time the other had even showed such an emotion was when he had decided to let himself die.

That night, his screaming mind woke him up many times, and he tried to devise a plan out of this place without the other noticing. He would be able to walk, yes, but could he run? And how far? He was certain that he'd never be able to reach his best friend's place, but if he could make it to the nearest city with a head start…

A choked sob snapped him out of his thoughts and his eyes went directly for the door. That wasn't his. He wasn't one to have pity on himself, certainly when he was sure there was an easy solution out of it. And there was no one else here, no one but…

With all the strength he could manage, he stood from his bed and, as silently as he could, made his way to the only other closed door, the owner's room. He didn't even have to lean against it hear the muffled howls of inner pain, or the erratic movements of the other. Blue ears folded as he simply stared, not daring to look at what was behind.

His mind reeled as he went back, unable to avert his eyes from the door. He had wanted a reaction. He got one. But this – was this really he had wanted? To have the black one crying? He shook his head. As mean as the other was, he knew, was willing to bet his life that he cared. Why else would he feed him, let him use his shower for as long as he wished? With one last look at the closed door, he stepped back into the room and settled himself into the bed, decision made. If only for a few days, he would stay. To see a smile, no matter how small, on the other's face. To see those eyes light up with happiness.

He ate ravenously the next morning, the owner having to return twice with a full plate for his stomach to finally stop screaming for food. He covered his mouth as he belched, only to chuckle an apology as the other gave a condescending stare before sighing and leaving, telling him that he should be able to stand and walk.

He didn't miss the surprise in those eyes when he had come out of the room while holding the laptop, a smile on his face. In a minute, a chair was pulled from the dining table and the power cords were neatly settled next to the computer. A small suitcase had been laid at his feet so he could put it away once done, along with a flash drive so he could store the information he wanted or needed.

All day, he sat in front of the computer, playing games as he watched the black one, busy himself with the dishes, the laundry, the meals. He hadn't seen the smile, but he was certain that the other was happy or, at least, content with his decision. Now, if only he could leave without the one who said he owned him making a fuss.

The answer had come a few days later. The fork had hit his plate as he had watched the fires eat a building. The firemen were unable to control the raging flames as they ate the structure. But he wasn't concentrating on the firefighters, knowing that they would, most likely, survive the ordeal. His eyes were trained on the shadow of a figure in the raging fire, too quick and small to be noticed by anyone, anyone but him.

His head snapped away from the television to the open door as the other stood next to it, holding it ajar. Slowly, he had stood up and walked to the black one, who simply held out a piece of paper.

"Just come back. Do what you have to do, but come back here once you're done," was all the other said as he grabbed the note, quickly reading it. The set of numbers imprinted themselves in his memory, and he nodded before running, unable to say a word. There was a life in danger, and every precious second counted.

The porch light was on when he returned, and he instinctively bit his inner lip as he walked to the door. It had taken more time than he had thought. The people hadn't been willing to let him go easily, certainly after disappearing for a few days. Along with that, he had made a stop at his best friend's place, to catch up and demand a device that would keep him updated if anything happened. No way would he arrive late if his archenemy decided to wreck havoc. He just hoped the other would understand that, though.

His trembling hand grabbed and twisted the knob, praying to Chaos it wasn't locked. Not that he didn't like a good brawl, but he'd like to keep his limbs attached, along with his head on his shoulders. He sighed in relief when the door opened without resistance, and he stepped in with a smile, rushing towards the black one's room after closing the door behind himself. He was back. Just like he had promised.

Blue ears flattened at the sight of an empty bed. Had he taken so long that the other was out looking for him? He wasn't sure what he apprehended the most. The fight, or the fact that he would never see that smile he had told himself he would get eventually.

A soft moan interrupted his thoughts, and made him step back to the room he had started to call his, only to blink. Amongst all the grey of it, due to the lighting, a patch of black stood out clearly, moving atop the sheets almost restlessly. He couldn't help the smile as he stepped in, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for the other's shoulder. He chuckled as hazy eyes opened to look at him in slight confusion.

"I'm back," he whispered softly as he watched the other blink before getting up and walking out without a word. An eyebrow raised, he followed the dark one, stopping the moment the latter turned towards his room, leaving the door open for the first time. Had he actually waited for the blue one to return? Had believed he would hold to his word? He smiled, heading back to his room. Impossible. He had to be imagining things.

No. This was very real. And it had only taken a few days for novelty to become habit. He could go anywhere he wanted, do anything of his day, as long as he returned to sleep for the night. And, even then, exceptions were made. The moment his ears would start drooping, the dark one would, with a grimace, come up with another idea that played in his favor. The other agreed to things he had thought would have deserved him a fight, leaving him to wonder if something had changed.

It had. And it took the form of a hand on his waist when he woke up one morning, making him turn to the sleeping black one. The odor of breakfast had filled his nostrils, and he couldn't miss the towel lying in front of the bathroom before looking at the alarm clock, raising a brow at the ten o'clock it was showing. He had overslept, a first. And the other probably waited for him to wake up, the preparations of the morning already done.

The hand on his waist landed limply on the mattress as he got up, forcing him to look more carefully at the dark one. And he had to control his laughter as he realized that the other was actually sleeping, resting so soundly, it would probably take an earthquake to wake him up. He chuckled the entire day, nearly angering the black one when he was finally awake. But he couldn't help it. It was just too hilarious. Who would have thought that the one everyone would have imagined as a very light sleeper was actually the complete contrary?

His laughter died that same night, when he heard footsteps make their way to his bed. His breathing halted as the mattress sunk under a new weight, and shift as it neared him. What was the other planning? As far as he knew, the black one wasn't one to stop, even when his opponent was on the floor. So what was stopping the other now? Certainly when he had passed the entire day laughing at the latter's expense.

He tensed as a hand slid along his waist, only to feel it caressing his side carefully, soothingly when he didn't relax. And the moment he did, the movement slowly came to a stop, and the hand came to rest where it had that morning until he fell asleep.

The next days passed with little to no change, but he was sure something was going on. The black one seemed just a bit more energetic, just a bit more – dare he say it? – joyful. Probably wasn't over the moon, but there was something that gave him the impression that the other was dancing to an unheard song. And the blue one was certain that he didn't have a clue of what was going on, for, the moment the former asked the question, he had answered with a sincere look.

It was only when he found himself too close to those red eyes that curiosity melted into apprehension. Those hands that he had gotten used to feel on his waist or back were now trailing his arms, reaching for his chest.

"No Shadow," he warned as one hand reached for his cheek, stopping halfway as a frown formed on the other's face before the appendage resumed its course. No. This was too close, too close for comfort. There was no way he'd let him into his personal space, not without a fight!

"I said no!"

He grabbed the black one's wrists, and nearly tossed him off the bed. If Shadow had all the intents in making this the night he'd try to truly make him his property, then he'd defend himself, make sure it was clear that he had no intention in helping him in his task, that this was without his consent.

However, he could only blink as black ears lowered themselves for a passing instant, the curious and searching glow in the other's eyes disappearing for sadness. Without a word, Shadow had simply got off the bed, taken his shoes and gloves and made his way to his room, leaving the blue one in confusion. He heard no cries that night, but the hedgehog simply stopped sleeping alongside him altogether, and the number of days changed absolutely nothing to the situation. If anything, it felt as if they went back in time, when he had just gotten in.

The empty space in his bed felt colder and colder as the days passed, and guilt did nothing to help. His appetite diminished, and he found himself leaving more and more into the plates, even refusing to eat when it was proposed.

It all boiled down to a point where he heard the sadness pouring out of the one of whom he had refused every single meal. The choked sobs reaching him only forced the lump in his throat to grow and made him walk to the closed door. He couldn't stand it. He had told himself he wouldn't hear this again, that he would make all the efforts possible so that the sounds of despair would never again be heard in this house. And all he had done was to cause them.

He swung the door open, and made his way to the bed, taking the black one in his arms.

"Sonic?"

The usually strong voice was cracked, throat probably dry from all the sobbing, and it was more than enough to remind him why he had become a hero, and why he had saved his best friend. If he hadn't, tears and sadness would have been dominant, and this world would have turned to grey.

"Don't cry. Please don't. I know you're feeling sad and that there's probably no other way to express it, but… please, don't. And if you really have to, don't do it alone."

He held in his own tears as he held Shadow closer. He wanted to say he was sorry, that he had been wrong in refusing Shadow's proximity. But, even though the words would have been heartfelt, it wouldn't have been true. The black one had pushed it a notch too far, should have waited until he felt ready, if ever he did.

Streaked arms gripped him with all their might as the hedgehog trembled. Tiny tears gathered into closed eyes as the black head sunk into his chest, slowly soaking the fur. Even as Shadow finally fell asleep, the grip didn't relent, making sure he couldn't move of the night. And although he didn't hear an apology, he was sure, more than certain that this meant that the black one was sorry for his actions, and that he had never meant to make the hero nervous.

It was the first time he woke up in what truly looked like a guest room. The white walls had little to no decorations on them, the mirror closet doors only adding to the dull décor. The only thing that stood out was the wooden furniture painted with black stain, and the two twisted bookshelves in the entry corners. Mountains of books could be found wherever you looked, and Sonic distinctly remembered an enormous bookshelf in the living room that was filled to the brim. Seemed as if the Ultimate Life Form had a hobby.

He turned to the bed, only to frown at the empty space next to him. He had expected Shadow to stay, probably even oversleep a bit. After all, hadn't the latter knocked out like a rock next to him once? He sighed as the usual bustle of the morning came to his ears, groaning into the pillow. Nothing had changed. Back to square one. He got out of bed and heavily made his way to the bathroom.

How wrong he was. The moment he sat, a hand came to lie on his shoulder for only a second. And it wasn't the possessive grip he knew the other capable of, either. It was soft, delicate, almost kind, like an embrace of gratitude. If he hadn't known Shadow, he would have expected the appreciative hug, along with the gentle voicing of words of recognition. Yet, he could only watch as the black one went about his business without a second glance, leaving him to eat his meal in silence.

It hadn't stopped there. When night came, as he was on the verge of sleeping, the touch of a hand had jerked him awake faster than an electric shock. He had turned around so quickly, the hand retracted itself and the other had already taken a few steps back. He didn't dare imagine what would have happened if he hadn't caught the retreating creature as he was getting off.

"Don't go," was all he could say as he felt the doubtful stare lain itself on him. He slowly pulled Shadow back onto the bed, smiling slightly when he met no resistance. The mattress sunk under the other's weight as he lay down, eyes fixed on the one who had asked him to stay. A hand moved, slowly reaching for a blue waist, and Sonic had to contain the shudder at the light contact. And, once again, even if he didn't see the smile, the glow in those eyes gave him more than he bargained for. Shadow was happy.

He had never thought this would happen. Slowly, but surely, the black hedgehog carefully made his way through his defenses, the same searching gaze he had had the night he was refused. And if he had been gentle the first time, he had gotten even more cautious, seeking for approval before putting his hands anywhere.

Often, when they'd have nothing to do of their day, Shadow would simply take his hand and drag him to the couch before tracing his features. Red orbs would often flick to his before returning to the wandering hands, frowning when they would find and area that wouldn't lay flat. A thumb then would gently trace it, immediately removing itself if his breath so much as hitched, gaze going from exploring to apologetic. He would only smile before telling the story behind the scar, or stating that he couldn't remember where it came from. And every time it was one the black hedgehog had caused, the one in front of him would frown and grimace, the sting clear. As if he hated the simple thought that he had hurt the hero.

The thought seemed to confirm himself a few nights later. Shadow had mapped Sonic's body entirely, memorized every nook and cranny. The distance between them had all but faded as black hands would slowly brush along his arms before a forehead would bump into his chest with a sigh. There had even been a morning where the Ultimate Life Form had still been in bed when he had woken up. He had chuckled the entire morning while watching the other race against time, earning himself a growl or two.

That night, however, shed a different light on things. Normally, Shadow would settle after cuddling against him, the sigh marking the moment he would fall asleep. Not this time. Instead of curling up a little more, the black head rose and a hand came to touch the hero's cheek, thumb carefully caressing it. Crimson eyes filled themselves with indescribable emotion before closing halfway, that head rising still.

And he did nothing to stop it. He didn't stop those lips from joining with his, couldn't help the shudder that ran throughout his body as he was carefully laid on his back. He was left breathless when the black one slowly moved away, the emotion in those eyes still ever present.

He leaned into the hand against his cheek, feeling the warmth reaching them when a nose came to nuzzle. He gasped as lips found the hidden neck, gently tracing it. His breathing hitched and hitched as two hands gently caressed his body over and over. He moaned as heat built between them, only to cringe in pain when fingers slipped inside. Yet, even then, the black one was so careful, so gentle with him, he couldn't help but melt, let the other do whatever he wished of him.

He shouted as ecstasy ran through him in waves, unable to stop them even if he wanted to. He heard his name whispered in his ear at every strike, vaguely reminding him of something he had once been told. But he couldn't remember, he couldn't remember as his body seemed to burn under Shadow's touch. And he just didn't want this to end.

A howl resounded as pleasure reached its peak, and he clung desperately to the other as warmth filled him to the brim. It was only then that the haze cleared, and his actions became clear.

"Mine," was all he heard afterwards as the other slowly fell asleep, barely hearing his name being whispered into his ear so softly, it felt as if it was made of glass. He turned to look at the black one with wide eyes. It was true. He had submitted. The die-hard hero he was had surrendered to his rival without a word of denial. He had become the other's property by simple trickery.

He tried to resist, refuse the calls Shadow made. He couldn't. He couldn't oppose the look in those eyes, the kiss on his cheek. All it took was a brush on his shoulders to have him moving. It didn't matter where it took place, or, he later discovered, who was in the receiving point. He just couldn't get enough. He couldn't be satisfied long enough of those hands, those lips, that scent. He wanted to hold Shadow for as long as he could.

He changed his mind, deciding to concentrate on more mundane tasks. Yet, every time he would try to help, he would be gently pushed away, bumped into if he was carrying a pile of laundry. Along with the fact that Shadow didn't eat, he was the one to make the most work, meaning he was the one burning energy the most.

He didn't wait to voice his thoughts.

"Wouldn't be appropriate if my property was to be mistreated," was the only answer he got, accompanied with a smirk that made him scowl. No way would he admit that he was really starting to feel like he belonged to the black one, even if he let himself be dominated more than enough times to prove his claims wrong.

It took him a while to get passed the statement, but, once he had, he had bombarded Shadow with questions, not stopping at the simple fact that the latter wanted to own the hero, thought he owned him. There had to be something more. No one would treat property, certainly if it was a person, like something more precious than crystal. After all, a person could work, and usually worked until they died. Even more so when it came to property. There was just something that wasn't right in Shadow's declarations, that didn't fit with the way he acted.

There was something more behind it, he was sure.

He was left to ponder on the other's words after a walk, on a question he had never found himself confronted with. If Shadow would ask Sonic to call him his Master, would the blue one actually do it? He shook his head, already knowing the answer. He would never. He couldn't even be in his right mind to even think about it. After all, he would rather die than saying that anyone but the wind was his master, and it lead him all over the world. He couldn't imagine himself staying for too long in one place, save for sleeping.

His mind came to a screeching halt. Wouldn't stay too long in one place? Hadn't he come back here at any chance he could? He hadn't dumped his friends. He still talked and laughed with them to his heart's content, but he always returned to this place without a second thought. Always… He slumped, arms falling limply to the side. He had done what he, what everyone, had thought impossible. He had settled down. He still ran all over the world, saved it like nobody's business, but the moment there was peace, he'd stop. He'd slow himself down and disappear. He'd go…

Home. He slammed his hands onto his desk, nearly breaking it on impact. It couldn't be. Home was everywhere! Under a tree or over a mountain. In a cave or out in a field. He could sleep anywhere, making little to no fuss at the hard ground beneath him. He used to laugh at Tails who tended to grumble when they had to sleep under the stars in no slipping-bags, howl in sheer amusement as Amy would complain about the long roads they took and how fast they went. Home was just…

"Is everything alright, Sonic?"

He turned to see the black one standing there. Impassive red eyes held a trace of concern, and the gloved hand laid against the doorframe was tensed up in doubt. Home was everywhere, right? Then why did he keep coming back? Had Shadow…? Impossible! Preposterous! He was his own master. The wind was his master!

"Sonic?"

Green eyes snapped open and he stared at the other, voicing the only thing that came to mind, "How long have I been here, Shadow?"

"Two years."

Two… years? How had time run past so quickly? Usually he would count the days before his archenemy would come up with a scheme. Now, they just seemed to come all too fast, and the time he spent saving the world stretched into infinity. Not that he didn't like saving the world, he loved it more anything. Flirting with death, attempting stunts that only he could manage was a thrill he couldn't live without.

But, somehow, he just couldn't get back fast enough. He had even found himself taking a few steps back before taking off in a run, breaking the sound barrier before even reaching the first stretch. And every time he'd get back, he'd be met by a lit porch light and a meal. Even once, he'd gotten back during a power shortage, and a candle had been left to burn in a holder, welcoming him in. Never once had it felt like ownership, much less slavery. And with Shadow's gentle touches and soft caresses, it felt more like…

Shadow rushed to his side as he nearly fell off his chair, chastising him for being idiotic. But he barely heard it, too concentrated on those red eyes. He could still see the concern in the impassive gaze, but he realized that the emotion they had showed as they embraced each other was still there, only much more tamed. And the moment they met his, the emotion only intensified, barely reigned back by self-control.

He felt like slapping himself senseless. How had he missed it? All the signs had been there, glaring at him this whole time. The black one's clumsy, but careful attempts to get closer to him. The first kiss. Their first time together and their unsuccessful attempts to sate their thirst for each other. All of them, signs that the other had tried to communicate but he had failed to see. Signs that he wasn't being owned, but that he was being _loved_.

Slowly, eyes never leaving the other, he laid a hand on the tan cheek before claiming the black one's lips with a passion he didn't even know he could muster while getting them up. He felt his knees buckle as it was returned with the same force, arms wrapping around him like a lifeline. Oh, Chaos, how could he have missed it?

He pulled away reluctantly, trying to regain his breath as his forehead settled in a tuft of white. He had to say it. He just had to.

"I love you… Shadow…"

"I know."

"How do you…"

He lifted his head, only to freeze. On normally dark features was a smile. A smile so innocent that only a child could a have made a similar one.

"You kissed me like I kiss you."

He could only frown before his lips were met again and a hand slowly took his as Shadow pulled away, forehead bumping into his.

"Like you love me," was softly whispered with that smile still on the other's face, making him blink before hugging Shadow fiercely. He finally understood. He could see the entire picture. Of course Shadow hadn't treated him correctly, he didn't know how to. Although the black hedgehog had killed more people than he could count, he still had the mind of a child, nothing more than a few years old, at most. Shadow had never meant to own him, he just tried to… Oh Chaos, he was such an idiot!

"Sonic?" came the confused question as the other slowly let him go, only causing him to hold him tighter.

"It's okay, Shadow. I just… I love you, too, Shadow. I love you, too."

**The Dmgirl**: There you go. I hope you guys liked it. See you guys on the next chapter of "Dim Lights"!


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